Monday, June 23, 2008

...but probably only because they spend most of their time trying to act like adults. I mean, have you seen Flavor of Love? We adults are setting the bar pretty fetching low.

Today Brooklyn threw a sweet fit. She was actually upset over a timeout levied earlier in the evening but launched into a vocal and violent protest vs. Brittiny such that I had to start her on an additional timeout.

Why time her out again, you may ask? Often enough the first timeout doesn't "take" and must be repeated in both frequency and severity. It's like going to a chiropractor for "adjustments". It's not uncommon for a healthy 2 year old to require a baker's dozen of "adjustments" before lunch.

So at this point I'm pretty sorry for the kid, since she's visited the well-worn timeout corner a few times already that day. Walking her down the hall I feel like the a-hole prison Warden, Drumgoole (Donald Sutherland) from Lock Up introducing Frank Leone (Stallone) to his cell.I kneel beside her and say, "Brookers, you need 3 minutes of timeout to cool your jets and think about how mean you were to Mommy." Judging by her reaction she clearly hears Warden Drumgoole's voice sneering out: "This is hell, and I'm going to give you the guided tour!"

Anyway, so 3 or 20 minutes pass - I wasn't keeping a close eye on the time - and I go back into Brooker's room for the post-timeout routine.

"Why are you in timeout?"

"Because I was hitting Mom like this (punching the air) and kicking her."

"Thank you for telling me what you did. Now please go tell Mom you're sorry and promise her you won't hit her again.""No. I no want to.""Brooklyn Margo you will march right up to your Mother and tell her you're sorry for hitting her or you will stay in timeout all night long."

At this Brooklyn hops down off her bed and marches, arms gesticulating wildly in the air with each step, knees kicking high off the tile floor - she's actually marching, the same way she does to her stupid Barney video where a bunch of annoying High School the Musical rejects march and prance around and pretend to give a crap about a dog named BINGO - all the way down the hall. Mom is sitting on the couch, so Brooklyn leans in and says, quite unctuously:

"I'n sorry Mommy fo' hitting you."

"Thank you, Brooklyn. I forgive you."

Brooklyn pauses for a moment, standing in front of the couch, then turns and runs full speed back to her room crying all the way. Those present to witness the apology are left to ponder its significance: Had we witnessed tears of joy from the soul-cleansing catharsis that comes only from true repentance? Was Brooklyn contemplating the far-reaching love of a selfless mother who so easily forgave her trespass? Did the gravitas of the intricate relationship between mercy and justice just bring a two year-old to tears?

If you answered "Yes" to any of the above three hypo's you obviously don't have kids. To look into the eyes of a sly two year old, when, out of necessity she is forced to apologize, is to see a stubborn will tortured by the realization of its own weakness.

Though her lips may ask forgiveness whilst tears flow down her porcelain cheeks, her heart cries out: "You'll never break me, Drumgoole!"

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

... but Mom is quick to remind me that in the Epperson line there is no crown, no walloping great wodges of cash to bequest, no "sceptered sway". But, for the record, she spent her first 20 years as a Torgersen and cannot be trusted. ;)

At 07:28 PST on Tuesday, June 17th, Braden Brent Epperson abruptly entered LDRP room 303 at Yuma Regional Medical Center. Brittiny was a champ through her pregnancy and labor, and as I write this, is enjoying a well-deserved nap.

King Darius had Xerxes and JFK his "John-John", now I have Braden Brent.

Here's Baby Braden trying desperately to give me the finger. Who do you think he looks like?

Grammy and Brooklyn came to visit us at the hospital. Brooklyn seemed un-phased by the competition, and was ever-so-sweet to her little brother. We'll see how long that lasts.

When she was asked to hand back Braden, Brooklyn replied, "No, I am Braden's Mommy." It was a cute moment.

The official stats above. I like the stork cartoon in the lower right of the card. I asked our nurse, "If the stork delivered our baby, then what's with the big bill?" Get it?... Maybe that joke would work if the story were about a duck delivering babies instead of a stork... Oh well.